What Might Have Been
by I found my Mr. Darcy
Summary: Darcy never learns of Lydia's elopement, she is not recovered and the Bennets depart Hertfordshire under a cloud of scandal. This is a regency era one shot from Elizabeth's POV. D&E, but no other canon pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**The canon characters do not belong to me. They are the creation of the inimitable Miss Austen, to whom we all owe a great debt.**

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In my dream it is always spring. One of those rare glorious days when the sky is clear but the air retains the barest scent of rain. It smells of water and earth and fresh flowers newly blossomed. And we walk in a lush green field, our children running ahead of us. They have our dark hair and his dimples and my eyes which I always heard he admired. And they run and they laugh and we laugh with them. He bends to accept a crown of woven daisies from our daughter and swings our son onto his shoulders while I cradle an infant in my arms. Sometimes, at the end of the dream it rains. On those mornings I awake with tears in my eyes and I wonder. If I had only waited five minutes, if I had allowed him up on that terrible day, if I had told him the contents of that wretched letter; I wonder what might have been.

But I did not wait five minutes and I did not allow him entrance. I sent him away. I sent him away and we returned to Hertfordshire and we never again saw Lydia and the scandal was so great we were forced to leave Longbourn. My father had to lease it out. We were so shamed and shunned in the neighbourhood we had no choice. We had to go where we were not known. While the Gardiners provided some assistance; they could not take us in. My uncle's business could not withstand the scandal. The income from my father's estate was hardly enough to sustain my mother, much less four unmarried daughters. After several months, Kitty, tired of the deprivation and the boredom slipped away under cover of night to seek her younger sister. Like our poor, foolish Lydia, Kitty was not seen again. Mary wed a country parson, Mr. Smythe, who forbid her having any contact with her family after the wedding. I daresay she did not consider it a deprivation. Before Lydia, Mary was overlooked. After she was simply one more mouth to feed, one more body to clothe. Her marriage bought her freedom I suppose. Jane and I took in mending and learned we had a heretofore undiscovered talent as seamstresses.

Eventually we found a modiste who cared little for our past so long as we were able to fill her orders on time. She brought us to work in her shop and when the name Darcy or Bingley came across the appointment book we stayed far in back away from prying, curious, condemning eyes. We sewed the wedding clothes when Miss Bingley became Mrs. Michael, when Miss Wilson became Mrs. Bingley, and again when Miss Darcy became Mrs. Asher. Of Mr. Darcy I heard very little and saw not at all. If there was a Mrs. Darcy, she was not shopping on Bond Street. And so we continued shifting for ourselves and seeking happiness wherever it might be found. Jane married the first shopkeeper to offer for her. It can be said of Mr. Stephens that he is kind and respectable and looks well to the needs of his wife and children. When my father passed Mr. Smythe would have none of Mary's portion and only reluctantly allowed her a brief visit. She was not pleased to see us and made it very clear she came as a matter of duty. Mr. Stephens refused more than the £1,000 promised in Jane's settlement. So there was only my mother and I to share the remainder and what had once seemed so little felt like riches beyond imagining. It would not purchase back our place in society, but it eased many burdens. One year and one day later, the widow Bennet became Mrs. Worth but Mr. Worth had no use for another unmarried lady in his house and I continued to shift for myself. I would occasionally hear the name Darcy and wonder and dream and to pray that if there was a Mrs. Darcy I might never have the misfortune of meeting her. But I was resigned to never have more than my dreams until that day.

Madame Fontaine bid me deliver several packages and as I was exiting the shop a young lady of some consequence was entering. Though I moved quickly from her path it was not quick enough and in retaliation she sent the packages flying from my arms and called me a stupid, thoughtless girl. I was six and twenty, she could not have been more than eight and ten. As I stooped to pick up the packages I came in contact with a gentleman's hand. Looking up I found myself gazing into the eyes that had haunted my dreams these many many years. He said nothing, only handed me the package, keeping his hand on mine just a moment longer than was necessary. Then Madame called out and the spell was broken and I turned away and he vanished.

That night when I left to begin the long walk home I heard him call my name. "Miss Bennet" and I stopped. I dared not turn around. It was him. It was my dream, my nightmare, my fantasy come to life and the pain was so great I thought I might die and again he called, "Miss Bennet."

At last I turned to face him and he said to me, "Are you still Miss Bennet?" I could only nod my head and watch as his eyes filled with some emotion I could not identify and he said, "I wish you were not."

I did not understand, but suddenly it was four years ago and I was young and carefree and we were at Netherfield. And in a voice I had not used in all those years I teased him and said, "Pray Mr. Darcy. If I am not to be Miss Bennet, then who would you have me be?"

He smiled at my impertinence and said, "Surely you know, Miss Bennet." And I did not dare to hope. I only raised my eyebrows a fraction in question and he said, "Surely, surely you know. I have only ever wished for you to be Mrs. Darcy."

I looked and I could not speak. At last I told him, "That is a cruel joke, Mr. Darcy. It is a terrible and unkind thing to say."

He asked what unkindness there could be in truth. "I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. I always have. I always will."

He stepped forward and when he reached for my hand my heart began to beat and only then did I understand it had stopped doing so all those years ago. I could not draw away. I did not wish to. I told him of my family's shame and he said it mattered not and apologized. The silly man, still trying to take responsibility for Wickham after all these years. We braved the wrath of his relations and the pleading of my mother. He assisted Mr. and Mrs. Stephens and offered a more prosperous living to Mr. and Mrs. Smythe and we learned that righteous condemnation could not survive such generosity. Mrs. Asher and General Fitzwilliam gave their blessings and stood witness to our vows.

When Catherine Elizabeth was born we did not tell Lady Catherine it was not she for whom our daughter was named and when at last the heir was born we called him Bennet George for his Grandfather Darcy, and according to my love, for me. My beloved says it is the name of the strongest person he has ever known and I can only shake my head at the notion. If the new babe is a girl we will call her Mary Jane and a boy will be William for his father who is still the very best of men.

And now when I dream and it rains and I wake with tears in my eyes, they are tears of joy and I look on my beloved Fitzwilliam and know that I have at last discovered what might have been.

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 **This story is the sole property of the author. Any duplication in whole or in part for publishing is strictly prohibited...not to mention just plain rude.**


	2. Chapter 2 Gray

**This addition comes at the request of many, many reviewers who asked for the Darcy POV.**

 **The canon characters do not belong to me, they belong to Ms. Austen...to whom we all owe a great debt. If certain lines in this addition sound remarkably similar to the original, they probably came from there.**

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Gray

Gray is the color of my world. Such has it been since that dreadful July day when she sent me away. We had shared an awkward but still pleasant conversation on the grounds; she ably deflected Miss Bingley's vindictive attacks and I had thought we were making a beginning. Thus believing I set out to call on my love and was dismissed with nary a word. "Tell Mr. Darcy we are not receiving visitors." Those were the words that echoed down the stairs. It was then, when I heard her sweet voice send me away, that the color leached from my world. I returned to Pemberley and never had it been less of a sanctuary. I was imprisoned. I should have forced my way up the stairs, demanded to be seen; but I could not. Instead I bowed to the rules of propriety and returned to the needs and expectations of my guests. I was bound to duty when I wished to alone. Not alone, not really. I wished to be with her. Her final rejection had been a death of sorts and to continue with the business of life seemed unbearable.

I confessed my wrongdoings to Bingley, at least in part because I hoped he would return to Hertfordshire and I might accompany him. Though he forgave me in his usual affable manner, he made no immediate plans to return to his angel. I began to think that while I had been wrong to interfere, I had been as mistaken in my opinion of the depths of his feelings as I had been hers. At last the Bingley party left us and I was once again left in peace. It was just as well, my manners had never been less civil, particularly toward Miss Bingley and I found I spoke more often to cause her embarrassment than not. Months passed and I buried myself in the business of the estate. I oversaw every detail with greater than usual interest until finally my steward asked if his services were still required. I rode out each morning and dined every evening with Georgiana. She made every effort to pierce my grief, but it was unrelenting and even I could see it was causing her pain. In the end, I sent my sister to London to stay with our Matlock relations and eventually prepare for her coming out, though it was yet two years away. I could not bear to see the joy she had worked so hard to reclaim wither in the shadow of my grief.

It was well over a year before I heard at last of the youngest Bennet girl's foolishness. I collected Bingley and made immediately for Hertfordshire. We were too late. The Bennets had left under a cloud of scandal and no one would say where they had gone. Not even that horrible, vulgar, aunt. Phinn…Fipps, ah, Phillips. Yes. Not even Aunt Phillips could or would say where they had gone. She said only that even their London relations would not take them in after such a scandal. For his part, Bingley said he was relieved to have escaped the connection. He thought his sister would never have forgiven him. I thought I had never before realized his cowardice. I longed to find and comfort my beloved. How foolish and selfish I had been to think her dismissal that day could not be related to some circumstance not at all connected to me. I should have insisted. I could have helped. I did not think to ask the name of the Aunt and Uncle in London and could not remember it from our brief introduction. I remembered Miss Bingley making a scathing remark about an uncle in Cheapside, but that area is vast and with nothing more to offer, a search there proved to be as futile as the one I mounted for Wickham.

I searched the countenance of every passerby in hopes of finding a familiar face and even took to surreptitiously examining the faces of any new companion or governess in households where I was a guest. I could not give up hope that I would someday find Elizabeth. I divided my time between London and Pemberley and sighed with no small measure of relief when Miss Bingley at last became Mrs. Michael. Though my friendship with her brother had altered greatly with his defection from the Bennet family, her determination to become Mrs. Darcy had not diminished until she met Augustus Michael. Mr. Michael owned several estates which he rarely visited. Like Miss Bingley, Mr. Michael preferred the entertainments and frivolities of town to the more sedate life offered by his country estates. The pair were well suited and I was sincere in my well wishes. I was slightly less sincere when some time later Miss Wilson took the title of Mrs. Bingley. I could not but regret not only my interference, but what I had come to see as my good friend's capricious nature. I had not forgotten that he abandoned even the thought of the Bennet family in the moment of their greatest need. It was a slight I found I could not quite forgive. Miss Wilson did nothing to improve my opinion as she seemed to be a pale imitation of the lovely Miss Bennet. She was, in fact, everything I had once mistakenly believed Jane Bennet to be and I hoped that fate might someday forgive my error.

My first joy in all those years was when my own sister traded the name of Darcy for that of Asher. The second son of a duke, Martin Asher was possessed of an estate in Nottinghamshire and was irrevocably in love with Georgiana. She had captured his attention in her second season and the connection was, according to Georgiana, instantaneous. She had spent the previous season turning away suitors and I began to think she would never marry. It happened that she was simply very set in her desire for a love match. I could not have parted with her for anything less. With Georgiana safely married, my Aunt turned her formidable matchmaking eye on me. I suffered through one nearly unendurable season of folly and then adamantly refused all further attempts. Such activities turned my mind to Elizabeth and I hoped if she had taken another's name I might never suffer to meet that most fortunate of men.

I celebrated when Colonel Fitzwilliam became General Fitzwilliam and mourned when Anne was at last freed from her mother's tyranny and went to her final rest. I paced with Mr. Asher when he became a father and I an uncle. The Asher heir looked very like his mother and I wondered if Elizabeth might have borne me a son in a better world. When at last I found Wickham, it was too late. It had taken years following a trail of bad debts and bastard children to track him as far as Plymouth. There I learned he had died not three weeks earlier and with him any hope of finding Elizabeth's sister. And though I wanted to, I could not blame the angry father who had killed the man responsible for ruining his only daughter. Of the Bennets I heard not even a whisper and I resolved to live out my days as Richard did among his siblings. I would be the favourite bachelor uncle to my sister's children and Pemberley would go to her second or even third son.

So I continued to exist in my state of gray. One day faded to the next with little distinction. I searched every crowd for Elizabeth's face and dreamed every night of the life we might have had. I dreamed of dark-haired children, eyes bright with curiosity and intelligence. I dreamed of a cherub faced girl with her mother's spirit forever getting into mischief. I dreamed of soft lips and a warm embrace and I begged all the gods of legend and faith to restore Elizabeth to me. It happened just after Georgiana's second confinement. I forced myself from my study and into the streets of town to search for a gift for the occasion. I was nearly knocked over by a young woman who was, from every outward appearance, a daughter of the first circles. Her manners however were somewhat less refined. I watched curiously as she made her presence known on the street with a good deal of pushing, shoving and rude commentary on everything from the conditions of the sidewalk to the lack of quality materials. She reminded me very much of Mrs. Michael when in a fit of temper and I caught myself wondering what my Elizabeth would make of such a creature. I was nearly apace with the ridiculous girl when she entered a shop at the same moment some poor woman was attempting to exit. The woman moved quickly aside, but not quickly enough to satisfy the temperamental miss. With the sweep of an arm, the object of my curiosity knocked aside the packages held by the other woman and called her a stupid, thoughtless girl. I acted from reflex and stooped immediately to assist in the retrieval of the scattered packages. We reached for one box at the same time and her hand came to rest on mine. In a moment I found myself lost in a pair of hauntingly familiar eyes. I could not speak and dared not even breathe for fear of waking from what must surely be a dream. I handed her the package and allowed my fingers to linger for just a moment. Then a voice called from within the shop and the spell was broken and she was gone. I rushed home, my errand for Georgiana forgotten. I called for tea then partook of nothing. I poured a drink I could not finish and drove my valet mad with changing requests. I would not rest, I could not. At last the hour came when I was certain the shop would be closing and I raced to the place where I might see her leave.

When she stepped from the shop I observed her closely for several moments. She was thinner than I recalled and though her step was confident, it was no longer carefree. Her shoulders stooped just a little, as though the weight of the past years had settled there. She was almost gone from my sight before I recovered my voice. I called her name and she stopped but did not turn. I walked closer and called again. When she turned to face me I saw something I dared not name reflected in her still magnificent eyes. I had to know if there was even the smallest hope and so I asked, "Are you still Miss Bennet?" She did not speak but merely nodded her head and colour came to the edge of my vision. "I wish you were not." The words were out before I could stop them and for a moment she looked confused. Then her brow arched and her eyes lit with a humour I did not realize I had missed and she spoke with the laughter I had never forgot. "Pray Mr. Darcy, if I am not to be Miss Bennet, then who would you have me be?" God how I missed her teasing. I smiled at her impertinence but answered from the depths of my soul, "Surely you know, Miss Bennet." Her eyebrows raised and I knew then that her teasing masked fears remarkably similar to my own so I continued. "Surely, surely you know. I have only ever wished for you to be Mrs. Darcy."

She said I was unkind and cruel. I asked what unkindness there could be in truth and then spoke the words I had been aching to say for six long years. "I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. I always have. I always will." Then I stepped forward and reached for her hand. When she did not draw away my world blossomed into full colour and I knew I would never again let her go. We did not speak again that night. Every topic seemed forbidden between us and I did not wish to frighten her, so I waited. After two weeks spent in silence she finally told me a story of misguided affections, heartbreak, grief, scandal and shame. I learned how two sisters were lost to the night and a third to marriage. She said Mr. Smythe was not best pleased with Mary's family and would only rarely allow contact. I learned of Jane Bennet's excellent husband, Mr. Stephens; the death of Mr. Bennet; and how Mr. Worth had little use for the daughters of his wife, the former Mrs. Bennet. It was dreadful to hear and I begged Elizabeth's forgiveness. "Why ever do you require my forgiveness, sir?" She asked in a manner that was a pleasing mixture of reproach and teasing.

"I knew what he was and did not care to warn your family. I should have exposed him for the blackguard I knew him to be."

"No, Mr. Darcy. You shall not be allowed to take responsibility for the actions of that man unless you wish to hold me responsible for the actions of my foolish sister." There was a measure of fear in her voice even as she challenged me and I knew this was test of our understanding.

"You know I can do no such thing, Miss Bennet. I am not certain I could even hold Miss Lydia to much account for the circumstance."

"It is decided then. We neither of us shall judge the other based on the actions and decisions of those we once knew."

I did not see how she could so easily acquit me but I was not inclined to waste our precious time together in argument. We spoke briefly of Mr. Bingley and our shared disappointment in his revealed character. I told her of Richard's promotion, Anne's death and Georgiana's marriage and family. She teased that as I was almost a father to Georgiana I must surely feel my advanced age as a near grandfather to her children. I laughed with her and thought I had never known such joy. While she continued to labor for the modiste, I searched my mother's jewels for a particular ring and contacted my solicitor in the great hope Elizabeth would soon accept my suit. After we had been meeting for a full month she asked me, "And what, Mr. Darcy, do your friends think of your interest in the woman who sewed your sister's trousseau?"

I answered without thought, "I suppose I once gave you very good reason for such concern, but I hope I have much improved since then. The truth Elizabeth, is that those whom I still call friend rejoice in my happiness. And any who think you beneath my touch can go to the devil! I love you, these past years I have been wandering in a desert seeking redemption. Now that I have found it, now that I have found you, I care for nothing so much as for our mutual happiness." I spoke with greater passion than was my wont and she was silent for so long I feared having offended her.

At last she lifted her face to mine and I could see tears shining in her eyes when she spoke. "Then, do you still wish for me to be Mrs. Darcy?"

I grasped both her hands in mine and replied, "I have wished for nothing less these many years. My affections and wishes remain unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever."

"Truly?"

"Truly. Now, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?"

I procured a license and she left the modiste to live with her sister for the weeks leading to our wedding. My Matlock relations were outraged, but Lady Catherine less so. The loss of her daughter had diminished her and she was brought to reason by the simple expedient of learning of Elizabeth's and my shared happiness. Mr. and Mrs. Worth found that rather than the burden they had always expressed her to be, Elizabeth was now a favored child. We found we could well bear turning a deaf ear to their pleas for entrance to greater society. I invested in Mr. Stephens' business and offered a more prosperous living to Mr. Smythe. The latter's forgiveness of his wife's family was almost immediate. I was thankful the living was at a second estate and not so near Pemberley as to be considered an easy journey. Georgiana and Elizabeth both blushed crimson when Georgiana insisted Elizabeth's trousseau come from Madame Fontaine, then they laughed as I imagine only sisters can at such moments. Richard and Georgiana stood alongside us in the church and I have never felt the truth of the spoken word as I when I vowed to love, honor and cherish the remarkable woman before me.

Our daughter, Catherine Elizabeth has the face of a cherub, her mother's spirit and a penchant for mischief. Her younger brother Bennet George is dark haired, with bright, curious eyes and is fiercely protective of his elder sister. I hope the new babe will be like its mother, who is the strongest person I have ever known.

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 _ **This story is the sole property of the author. Any duplication for publication in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.**_


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